


Cold

by Bowieandqueen11



Category: The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Cold, F/M, Fluff, Loss, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29021934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowieandqueen11/pseuds/Bowieandqueen11
Summary: It's Luke's turn to help the reader when she's struggling with a nightmare!
Relationships: Eleanor "Nell" Crain & Luke Crain, Luke Crain & Steven Crain, Luke Crain/Reader, Luke Crain/You
Kudos: 5





	Cold

Ever since Nellie’s death, Luke couldn’t stand the cold.

He had been like this, when he was little. Luke had just always been Luke, but he had also been Nellie, the two so closely connected that every little thing he felt, she did as well. Sleepovers were always rough when you were a child, because when the ghosts came out to taunt them, as they always did, you would have to try and hug a terrified Luke in one hand, and reassure a screaming Nellie in the other. Ever since then, every pain, every sorrow, every fear the other felt would overwhelm him so much, he would always need you by his side in the end.

To start, he would always try to fight against it. The cold just happened to be the worst. Every window in your apartment had to be shut by a certain time in the winter, and the heating had to be turned up to a certain degree before he would stop shaking. When the two of you would snuggle down in the evenings to watch a movie, he would always collapse down on top of you, wrapping you up in at least three blankets he had enveloped his broad shoulders in. Nights, nights were always the worst, and although Luke loved you more than anything, he was always the most grateful for you at nights. The time when he could reach out across the sheets and grab onto your wrist in the darkness, slowly shuffling himself awkwardly across the bed until you welcomed him into the warmth of your chest in a half-asleep hug, hiding himself into you under the duvet. You would have to spend the whole night with his head tucked under your chin, trying to stop his chin from trembling as he buried his head into your neck by rubbing your hands over the wide expanse of his back.

It really was the only way to stop him shaking.

That’s why, that night, he was so surprised to find that when he came grasping desperately for you, you were the one who ended up trembling under his hands.

He lifts his head slightly off your pillow, surprise evident on his sleepy features. Reaching one arm over you, he’s careful not to rustle you, or nudge you, as he clicks on your bedside lamp. When he glances over at you, trying to blink the gloom away from his eyes so he could see you properly, was when he started to panic. One large hand cups the side of your cheek, fingertips gently tapping against your skin. He leans up on his left elbow, his frame enveloping you. 

‘Hey, hey sweetheart, come on, wake up. That’s it, wake up, come back to me. It’s alright - we’re home, we’re home.’

You wouldn’t stop however, your body twisting the sheets around your legs as you trembled, your cheeks glistening as you bathed the bed in a cold sweat. He racked his brain, trying to think back to when he was ten years old and how Steve would try to wake him up at Aunt’s Janet’s when he had nightmares about Hill House, about his mom, about Isabelle - the tight grasp of his older brother’s hands against his shoulders, the way the back of his palm would stroke the wet strands of his fringe away from his eyes. Whispering, he would slowly stay with him until he began to gasp awake, one hand tight around his neck as Luke struggled for a breath.

Thank you Steve, he thinks, for teaching me what you learned at big brother school.

‘Alright honey, I’m here with you, it’s alright. Let’s do this together, okay?’

He couldn’t bring himself to do anything that could every remotely hurt you, so when he placed his hands on your shoulder and lifted you gently towards his chest, he did it as if he were delicately balancing Nellie’s cup of stars on his finger. The sweat trickled down your forehead and landed on his thumbs, as he gently massaged your muscles, but he didn’t care - he was too busy stroking the hair away from your eyes, making sure he would be the first thing you saw when you woke up.

‘That’s it love, that’s it. Come back to me. Wake up now.’

He presses soft kisses against your cheeks, his heart beginning to settle at the way you began to relax in his hold, your hands beginning to loosen and tighten as you grasp the bottom of his pyjama shirt. He leaves a final, chaste kiss against your lips, just ever so lightly brushing against them, until he feels you tug at the shirt on his back. Sitting the two of you up properly, he doesn’t loosen his grasp as you take a moment to properly blink yourself a wake, rubbing your back as you take gulping breaths.

‘I’m s- I’m sorry Luke. I didn’t m-mean to wake you up so early.’

He only gives a deep, huffing chuckle in reply, but you can see the relief in the way his eyes dip as he pulls you into his chest. Staying still for a moment, the two of you just sit on your bed, in the light, and the warmth you’re sharing with each other.

‘I would do it every second of this lifetime Y/n, if it meant keeping you safe.’

You feel his hands tighten against the curve of your back, and the slight twitch of his cheek as he takes a moment to scrunch his nose against your neck.

‘Do you remember what I told you, the night I asked you to marry me?’

‘The same night Nellie accidentally tripped Shirley up and sent her flying into Theo, who ended up spilling champagne down her blouse. I still remember the look on Theo’s face as he shoved the cake she was holding onto Shirley’s dress.’

He chuckles, reaching his head up so his forehead touched yours. ‘Yeah, that’s the one. Do you remember what I said, what I whispered in your ear, right before I dropped down on my knee?’

‘You’re my home.’

‘That’s right’, he states, his voice firm and unwavering, ‘you’ve always been my home. I’ve always loved you, more than anything. So stop apologising, for anything - I’ve done my fair share of hurting you, and somehow you’re still with me. I’m the luckiest man alive.’

'And a big sap,’ you add, trying not to cry.

‘A huge sap, just for you.’

He shivers against the cold that starts to creep into the room, the early morning darkness starting to fight against the edges of his vision again. This time, though, this time, he doesn’t really feel it. He’s not scared of it, anymore, because you’re here, and you love him, and he’s never going to leave you again.

‘I love you, that’s all. And that’s all that matters.’


End file.
